


Riptide

by Skalidra



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Biting, Enemies to Lovers, Fighting is Flirting, Intersex, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Unrealistic Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-04 02:19:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10265333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skalidra/pseuds/Skalidra
Summary: Jason is very firmly ensconced in his own territory; a small sea with too many humans for anyone else to want to be in it. He likes the humans though, or at least he likes the things they leave behind, and as long as he leaves them alone, they leave him alone. Then another mer shows up, inhisterritory and huntinghishumans. There's no other option but to drive him out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [firefright](https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefright/gifts).



> Welcome! So, this is a birthday gift for Firefright, my darling. She got to read it back when it was her actual birthday, but now it's finally going up so everyone else can enjoy it too. She just wanted Jason and Roy as mers, and therefore got three chapters of it. XD Enjoy!

Jason doesn't usually like other people in his territory. It's a narrow range of a pass from the ocean that opens back into a smaller sea with several small islands, and he _likes_ it there. There are humans, true, ports where ships come and go, but he leaves them alone and he's left alone in return. He likes having such a narrow point of entry; likes only having to defend one angle from any other mer, and besides, who would want his territory? It's not that big, not compared to the massive stretches that he knows others claim, and it's not worth the hassle of the humans in it, according to the rest of his race.

He almost thinks of them as _his_ humans, in their own strange way. They leave gifts for him sometimes, out on the smallest of the islands that they know 'belong' to him, as much as things like that can. He helps occasionally too, when he sees opportunities. Kids that have wandered too far in, or things dropped into the water that shouldn't be there. He keeps the most interesting stuff, but the things he's less interested in he returns. (He does _not_ hoard, thank you very much. He just… likes things. Some things. It's not like he's hurting anyone.)

The humans have their own odd behaviors, but for the most part he just watches them if he's bored, and he has enough things to do that he's rarely bored. He almost never sees others of his own race, but that's a good thing.

Other mers have only ever wanted to take what belonged to him or take _him_ , and he's not interested in either. This is _his_ territory, and he doesn't want a clutch. Maybe someday he'll go looking, but for right now he is perfectly fine not having any kids to have to deal with, or a mate to have to pander to, or anything else to take his time. He likes being alone.

So when he takes a route across the entrance to his sea, and there's the lingering taste of another mer in the water, he braces himself to fight. He follows the trail back into his waters, keeping low against the bottom of the sea where only bits of light get through and his eyes can see the farthest through the clear, still water. He's nearly gotten to one of the ports, the one closest to the entrance of his territory, before he catches a flash of red scales. He bares his teeth, hugs the sand and circles around to the side as he follows that flash of red. It gets shallower as they approach the port (larger ships go to one of the deeper ports, to avoid scraping the bottom on this one), until he can see the wooden supports of the pier that the humans have built out into the water.

The other mer is floating beside one of those supports, a pale hand braced against it to hold his spot, tail flicking restlessly in the water. It's a brighter red than his own, patterned with bands of gold scales instead of his black, and the mer is slightly smaller than him overall but definitely another male, the muscle of his arms actually _bigger_ despite the slight size difference. There's long, red hair floating behind the mer, and that head is tilted upwards, towards the surface and the sun. Towards the _humans_ up there.

No. _Not_ happening.

He surges forward, beating his tail against the water, and the mer turns to face him but not quite fast enough to react. He impacts, _slamming_ the other mer back into the pier's support hard enough to make it shudder. There are faint calls of alarm from above, but he focuses down on the mer he's holding against the wood, baring his true teeth and winding his tail around wood and scales to pin that brighter tail against the support. The other mer hisses back at him, gills flaring rapidly below the fall of his hair, vividly green eyes narrowed.

The red mer jerks against him, and he's _strong_. Jason drags him forward to slam against the support again, but then hands are clawing towards his face and he has to let go, has to grab those wrists and push them back instead to keep the claws from ripping him open. The mer fights him, pushing forward, back braced against the wood and he's— He can't hold him. He's never met a mer that he wasn't _stronger_ than, and he's bigger than this one, has the advantage, he _should_ be winning.

He tightens his grip, his own claws digging into the mer's arms, and then suddenly they're twisting beneath his grip and claws are raking at his wrists. He hisses and shoves away, his tail uncoiling as he propels himself back, trailing blood from the slices at the tops of his wrists. He flicks his tail up at the last moment, swatting the side of the mer's head hard enough to stun for a moment before he gets out of range.

The mer chases him faster than he expected, shoving off the support, and he twists back to face him. He has exactly enough time to coil his tail up and lash out, slamming the meat of it into the red mer’s side and sending him spinning before they can slam into each other. Powerful arms press to the side he struck, and he goes with instinct and lunges forward to take advantage of the injury.

Teeth flash at him, but the mer is a bit slow to respond and he’s always been _fast,_ even before he was big.

He brushes underneath a swipe of claws, his arm brushing against the mer’s side as he spins around him, twisting up to get right at his back. He grabs hold of the mer’s upper arms to keep him from running, opens his mouth to bite into the back of his neck and end it—

There’s too much damn _hair_ in the way, and the mer is starting to struggle, claws reaching up to rake at his grip, tail lashing against his. So he lets his jaw drop down and bites into the mer’s right shoulder instead, feeling his teeth slide easily through skin and muscle until they’re halted by bone. The mer screeches, and he wants to stay close, wants to force a surrender, but long unused instinct says to get _back_. He hasn’t had to fight anyone who he wasn’t bigger and stronger than in a long time, but somewhere in him he remembers how and it starts with _not getting grabbed_.

He disconnects, shoving the mer forward to get momentum to push away. Blood is heavy across his tongue, sweet but strong, blanking out most of the other tastes in the water, making his senses strain to focus on the owner.

The mer is trailing blood as he spins around, hair falling somewhat over his injured shoulder, shielding the sliced-apart muscle there. Teeth bare at him, and the mer rolls that shoulder, hand flexing. It still moves. Shit.

Maybe he should be genuinely running.

As if the mer can sense him thinking it he circles out, cutting him off from open sea with a few powerful beats of that red and gold tail, herding him back towards the shallows of the water. He glances back, gauging the distance, gauging how far he can go before the humans become an actual problem (not far enough), and the mer is already darting at him by the time he looks back even though it's only a second later.

He waits, bracing, and then tries to launch up and over the mer and escape to the sea where he can have some real _range_ , but as he spins up the mer is following and shoulders slam into his ribs, bearing him up and oh _fuck out of the water_. Sunlight and glare and _noise_ blind him for a moment, and then his side hits the water and he's down again. He takes a sharp breath as he tries to get his bearings, spins to find those red and golden scales, and weight _slams_ into his back.

His face hits the sands as a tail wraps around his, scales rubbing against his own and compressing his fins. He rears back, twisting into the hold and clawing backwards. He doesn't know quite what he hits, but he feels his claws rake through something, feels the tail around his squeeze down. Then claws sink into the tops of his shoulders, and he has about half a breath to brace before they _rake_ down either side of his back. He shrieks into the water, arching away and lifting sand into the water as he writhes against it. Anything to get the mer _off of him._

He hasn't had a fight in a while, hasn't had anyone challenge him, and maybe he's out of practice, maybe he shouldn't have started this.

He manages to twist away for half a second, to turn and face the mer at his back, blood muddying the water between them as he hisses and knocks aside a swipe of claws aimed at his face. He pushes up, meeting the other mer's mouthful of needle teeth with his own as they face off, his blue eyes to that vivid green, his short hair to the floating longer hair. There's a few moments of tension, both of them ready to deflect or strike when given an opening, Jason kept in the hold by the wrap of the tail around his.

Then there's a sharp burst of movement from the red-gold mer, a hand slashing towards ribs and he jerks back automatically, shoving his own hand out to get in the way and the mer is bearing down on him in every way _but_ that hand and—

There's the needle-sharp prick of teeth at the front of his neck, and he goes instinctively, utterly, still. He knows how fast those can tear through his skin, how quickly he could die if he doesn't follow instinct and tradition. Hands wrap around the sides of his shoulders, pressing him down into the sand and holding him there. The sand grinds into the wounds on his back, but he spreads out his arms and retracts his claws, as expected, as _demanded_.

The teeth at his neck bear down a bit, just hard enough to slice his skin open and draw a little more blood out into the water. The none-too-gentle reminder makes him twitch, and he forces his own teeth away, shuddering even as he drags a croon from his chest. Uncertain, because he hasn't had to concede a defeat in years, not since he was much smaller, but he manages a few wavering notes that should be good enough to get the point across.

He knows his gills are fluttering rapidly, betraying how nervous he is and how much he dislikes this, just like how his shoulders are drawn tense and tight beneath the grip of the other mer. Who pulls back, teeth sliding away from his throat to pull back and look down at him. The tail coiled around his lets go, and he shivers slightly at the rasp of scales against his own, knowing where this is going and hating the drawn out suspense of it. The other mer won, it's his right, but that doesn't mean he has to _like_ it.

He's not dead, so the mer doesn't want his territory, and the mer didn't let him run so it's not just defense either. Not anymore.

He fights the urge to bare his all-too-human teeth, squirming against the sand and wincing at how it grinds into his back. "Get it over with," he spits, wishing that instinct didn't demand this quite so insistently. If he could strike, if he could just _run_ … But he was beaten. This mer, whoever he is, is entitled to claim what he wants. _If_ he wants.

The mer's head tilts, tail beating lightly against his own, and he scowls. Then that mouthful of teeth melts down into rows of flatter, human ones, and the mer blinks down at him, hands still strong on his shoulders but one eyebrow raised now. "You attacked _me_ ," the mer points out, in a voice a little bit higher pitched than his.

"You're in my territory," he snaps. "I wanted you _out_."

"You could have _asked,"_ the mer says, looking almost _amused_ and screw _that_.

“You were about to wreck things!” His voice comes out sharp, angrier than he meant it to, and he can’t quite keep himself from flashing his teeth up at the other mer. Claws dig into his shoulders, threatening and reinforcing that he already gave, that he _lost_. He forces himself under control. “Just make the damn claim already and get it done,” he demands, tilting his head away and towards the shore, reluctantly and grudgingly offering the side of his neck.

The mer shifts above him, claws easing away from his shoulders to leave only the pressure itself. He braces, closing his eyes and trying not to tense up too badly; it’ll just hurt worse. It’s just a claim, just a clutch. He can suffer through it and be done, and this mer and whatever of the brood survives can get the hell back out of his life. He’s never _lost_ a fight like this before, but it’s fine; he’ll survive. If this mer is really a bastard not even a claim will stop Jason from slitting his throat, but if he’s not so bad? It’s just a few months. Nothing, in the scale of things.

“Nah,” the mer says, casually pushing away from and letting go. His eyes snap open. "Not that you're not hot, but claims aren't really my thing." He stares up, confused, as the mer floats back and rolls his injured shoulder with a wince. "How about you just let me stick around here for a little while instead? You uh—” the mer pokes down at a row of slices in his side; what he must have hit when he flailed backwards "—got me pretty good and I'd like to heal up before I leave again. Sound good?"

He doesn't want this mer anywhere _near_ his territory, but he grits his teeth together and pushes up against the sand as he strangles that feeling away. "Fine. But you don't hunt the humans here, got it? They're not dangerous and they don't think I am either so you _stay away_. Do _not_ mess up what I have here."

The mer looks a little confused, maybe a little taken aback, but nods. "Wait, did you…? Did you think I was going to _eat_ one of them? Is that why you attacked me?"

"Weren't you?" he demands, pulling his tail in and coiling it partially beneath him to draw away.

"What?! No!" The mer sounds a little shocked, eyes widening. "I like humans; I wouldn't eat one. I was just following a boat in to see what they had on board. I mean, mostly it's just like, seeds or wood or stuff, but sometimes there's cooler things on ships so I like to look." Those green eyes look over towards the pier, tail flicking, mouth curling in a small grin. "They're really interesting, don't you think? They make all this neat stuff and not _all_ of it still works in the water but it's still all so creative _._ They're so similar to us, but they're so _different_."

He hesitates, watching how the mer is staring up towards the surface of the water, something alight and fascinated in his eyes. "I… didn't think any other mers liked humans," he admits. "Except for taste, I guess."

"I do." The red-gold mer looks back, and then smiles, lifting his left hand and holding it out as that long tail flicks, driving him forward a little bit. "I'm Roy."

He stares at the outstretched hand, shifting uneasily. "Been around humans too long?" is what ends up coming out of his mouth, as he debates accepting the human style of greeting. Debates accepting _any_ greeting. He still doesn't like the idea of this mer sticking around in his territory, even if he is apparently at least somewhat friendly (and not about to set the humans hunting him).

The smile stays, and so does the hand. "Haven't you?"

Fair point. He uncoils just enough to reach out and shake Roy's hand, briefly. "Jason."

Roy's tail slides forward, curling beneath him in a lazy loop as he tilts sideways, coming down close to the sand and smiling up at him. "So have you got a den somewhere out here?"

"…Yes."

* * *

“I could help you with that.”

He glares, struggling with the strip of kelp to try and get it to stay in place around his wrist. It just needs to be there for a day, till the scratches close up by themselves, and after that he can be done with the damn finicky things. (He doesn’t _need_ them, but they’ll help the wounds heal just a little faster and he’d like that to be done as soon as possible; just in case.)

“I don’t need your help,” he spits, from where he’s drawn himself up onto the fairly deep ledge of his cave and coiled himself in the corner furthest from the water where Roy is lingering.

“I didn’t say you _need_ the help,” Roy says, with a smile, head shifting where it’s laid across the arms he has crossed on the edge of the ledge. “But I _could_. You know, if you wanted.”

“I _don’t_.” The kelp slips out of his fingers, and he hisses down at it, frustrated and in pain and there is someone in his _den_ and he doesn’t like it. His most precious collection isn’t down here, but it’s his space and his things all the same and no one else has ever understood his appreciation for the trinkets humans leave lying around. His brood-mates had teased him about it until he stopped collecting, and it took until he was alone and sequestered in this sea for him to start again. Slowly.

Roy’s gaze is sliding across them now, his foraged shelves and the things on them. “How are you going to get your back?” is the curious and _pointed_ question, and he bares his teeth and hisses some more because that was a thing he was trying not to think about. Roy’s tail flips out of the water for a moment, bright and shining in the bits of light that make it past his cave’s entrance and reflect off the water. “How about… I get yours, and you get mine? Does that sound fair?”

_Fair_ , sure, but he doesn't like the thought of Roy near his back. Or near his things. But... he does hurt, and he's pretty sure that there's no way he can get to the slices down his back and actually expect to accomplish anything. He did his best to get the sand out of it, but it didn't seem to help much and he can't exactly _see_ to figure it out.

He shifts, and then finally spits, "Fine. Bring some water up then."

"Or, I mean, you could come down here." He hisses, and Roy holds both hands up and pushes slightly away from the wall. "Alright, alright. I'm coming."

Roy glances around, and Jason picks up on what he’s looking for about the time that those green eyes find one of the shinier bowls he’s collected, on one of his lowest shelves. Arms start to lift Roy up onto the ledge, and he irritably whips his tail out with a warning snarl, coming just a few inches away from smacking him back off the ledge. Roy rears back, splashing back into the water, and then surfaces with a small hiss and narrowed eyes.

“Don’t touch my things,” he spits, and before Roy can snap anything back he adds on, “There are containers down below you; use one of those.”

Roy blinks, then drops below the water with a small splash, tail flicking water up at the ceiling as he dives. The pool isn’t _that_ deep in here, only a half-dozen tail lengths at the deepest point, so Roy is back after just a moment, holding a small metal bucket from the collection he has at the bottom. They’re useful, durable, and it’s not like he can make them himself so he just… keeps them. No one misses them. (It’s _not_ hoarding.)

Roy lifts the water-filled bucket up onto his ledge, and then props arms onto the rock and drags himself up. He resists hissing some more, barely; he did agree to this, even if he doesn’t like it, and it’s not like Roy can hurt the _rock_. He winces at the scrape of scales against it anyway, as Roy wiggles across the ledge towards him, stopping in intervals to pick up the bucket and move it closer. Well, at least he’s smart enough not to try and move over and carry the bucket at the same time.

By the time Roy’s gotten to him he’s curled his tail in tight, his fins twitching intermittently as he holds himself otherwise still and watches carefully. Roy doesn’t seem to notice or mind how defensive he is, because the red-gold mer pushes right up next to him and plops the bucket down with a smile, shoulder almost brushing his. He shifts a little bit away, but Roy just shifts closer in response and reaches for his wrist. Fingers close around it before he can make up his mind about jerking away or not, so he just forces himself to stay still and only hisses a little bit. Just a warning, not a real threat.

Surprisingly deft fingers unwrap the half-clinging kelp there, and he winces as it pulls away from his cuts. They're not deep, Roy didn't get either of his wrists that badly, but they sting and he doesn't like it.

He opens his mouth, expecting to have to tell Roy how to do it (most mers don’t bother with wrapping wounds unless they’re massive), but to his surprise Roy is already wrapping it again. Firm pressure, several loops, with the end tucked around and under the rest until it pokes out the other side. He blinks at it in surprise, even as Roy reaches for his other wrist and tugs it over to do the same for the nearly mirrored scratches. He has a pile of kelp strips — harvested off a growth of them near one of his small islands — sitting next to him, and Roy picks up one of the relatively shorter ones, dipping it into the bucket of water first before beginning to wrap his other wrist as well.

He shifts a bit at the pressure, but doesn't draw away. The coolness feels… nice.

His gaze lifts, and Roy is smiling at him, which is about when he realizes that their shoulders actually are touching now. Just slightly, wet skin brushing his mostly dry skin as Roy works to finish off the other wrap. It only takes a moment, but Roy doesn't move away and, well, he doesn't either. His tail loosens slightly, scales scraping over the rock, his gaze dipping down as Roy's fingers slide over his skin while pulling back, letting his wrist drop back down to his lap. He looks back up, meeting the tilt of Roy's head and the easy smile there.

There's a moment of silence before Roy's shoulder nudges his, and he almost bristles before Roy asks, "Let me get your back?"

He does bristle a little bit then, but Roy’s smile doesn’t go away and there’s no return posturing, so he grudgingly shifts a bit further away from the wall. He keeps his head turned partially over his shoulder as he offers his back, watching as Roy pulls the water a little closer, eyeing the length of the matching sets of gashes down his back. Roy lifts the bucket then, meets his eyes for a moment, and then carefully pours some of it down the length of the scratches. He grits his teeth against the sting but makes himself stay still, feeling the careful pass of fingers down the slices, one by one, interspersed with the occasional trickle of water.

“You don’t have to be that precise,” he eventually snaps, when a finger catches the edge of one of the furthest slices with a sharp flash of pain. “That’s good enough.”

“I’m almost done,” Roy answers, calm against his irritation. “Just this last one.”

He hisses, but doesn’t pull away from that last slow pass of the exploratory finger. Then, finally, Roy sets the bucket down and reaches for his pile of kelp. One hand touches his shoulder, pressing him slightly forward so he’s leaning down a little bit, before the first strip of freshly-wet kelp is laid down against his back. He almost sighs at the coolness of it, gaze drifting to rest against the cave floor as he lets his head come back to a more natural angle. It means losing sight of Roy, but he’s relatively certain that it’s not going to get him hurt. This would be a lot of effort to hurt or kill him when he was already at Roy’s mercy to begin with.

He breathes evenly, sitting still and letting Roy wind strips of the kelp down over his shoulders and around his ribs until he finally shifts back and announces, “There. Done.”

He shifts, cautiously, but the kelp stays bound in place. He looks down at it, examining how it’s wound together and sort of wishing he could see the work at his back to figure out that part of the puzzle as well. It seems to be holding at least, even as he straightens up and rolls his shoulders back.

“So, as long as you don’t move too fast, or too twisty, that should stay in place, at least for a day or two.” He looks over, and there’s Roy’s smile again, apparently not at all irritated by having to do such a relatively complicated wrapping.

He can’t quite bring himself to say thank you, but he does dip his head a little bit and offer a less-hissed, “Good.”

“Get me?” Roy follows it up with, tilting slightly away from him and rolling his shoulder down to showcase the bloody bite wound at the top of his shoulder. It’s not bleeding anymore, but he knows it trailed blood most of the way out here; it’s a nasty bite for not having done much real damage.

He dips his head a little bit in agreement, and then shifts to face Roy more directly. Roy wasn’t the one being ground into the sand so the bite is clean, but he runs a bit of the water over it anyway just to wash away the remains of how it bled. And _immediately_ the water washes hair into it instead, drawing a sharp twitch from Roy. He scowls down at the offending hair, but jerks his gaze up when Roy gives a small laugh and starts to move.

“I got it.” Both arms come up, combing the wet, clinging hair back and then reaching down for one of the strips of kelp. He watches, a little confused and a little interested, as Roy gathers the excess hair into a bundle at the back of his neck and then loops the kelp around it, finally pushing it through and loosely tying it in place. “There,” Roy says, with a smile and a demonstrative shake of his head. “Learned it from watching dock workers; pretty neat, huh?”

“Yeah,” he admits, a little grudgingly and after a bit of hesitation. Then, because he’s not meeting that weirdly good-mood smile any more than he needs to (even if it’s not really irritating him like he thinks it probably should be), he drops his gaze back down to the bitten shoulder and starts to work.

A shoulder is a whole lot easier than a whole back, so it only takes him a few minutes to rig together a lattice of kelp that should hold in place as long as Roy’s not racing too fast. The clawed side takes even less time, and Roy aims another of those smiles at him when he’s done, shuffling a little closer as he upends what’s left of the bucket of water over his own back and then nudges the empty bucket in the direction of water so he can take it back down later.

“Where’d you get all this?” Roy asks, with a wave of one hand towards his shelves and all the things on them.

He shifts, not quite feeling up to the effort of properly drawing away from Roy and the way he's nudging closer, even though he doesn't like the direction the question is pointing. "Humans… leave things," he answers slowly. "Things get dropped in the water, or left on shores, or the islands. Some of it's interesting."

Roy's smile widens a little, and he sees that brighter red fin give a little flick, like excitement.

"What is _with_ you?" he demands, narrowing his eyes. "Why all the smiling?"

Roy wiggles a little closer, tail unfurling a bit so their scales brush before there's a nearly gleeful, "Red with bands. We _match_."

He blinks in confusion, and it takes him a second to make sense of it before he looks down at their tails. "Are you kidding me?" he snaps, bracing his hands against the floor so he can move sharply away from Roy and yank his tail away. "That's just a stupid dam's tale, there's no truth to it."

It's Roy's turn to blink, head tilting to one side. "You don't believe in true mates?"

" _No._ " He crosses his arms, glaring. "It's a stupid, old-fashioned, optimistic idea. There are only so many patterns of tails, and just because we're vaguely similar doesn't mean we're _destined_. I'm _not interested_ , and it's different shades of red anyway."

Roy's smile is surprisingly still there, considering how he dragged him down. "Okay," is the easy answer. Roy leans over, and he bares his teeth in a warning hiss that's completely ignored before Roy murmurs, "But, you know, your collection _is_ really cool. I like it."

His mouth snaps closed.

Roy's fin flicks against his tail as he stretches out and heads for the water. "Want something to eat? I'm _starving_."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to chapter 2! This time, with some Roy PoV! Enjoy!
> 
> Also, now featuring art by the excellent [CatChan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CatChan/pseuds/CatChan) down at the bottom!

"Don't touch that."

Jason scowls at him, tail flicking through the water and flicking up little droplets of it, watching him. He pulls his hand away from the trinket — something gold and shining, but he doesn't recognize exactly what the shape of it is which is _impressive_ — and drags himself a little further across the ledge, looking at more of the things on the shelf. Things he recognizes; not things that he would have chosen to pick up himself but they're definitely cool. (He likes the inventions humans come up with better, but he left his collection behind; not a problem, he can always find more things.)

He smiles, keeping his hands against the ground this time as he leans closer to the shelves, examining the things on it. His shoulder twinges as he puts weight on it, but he ignores it. This is the first time that Jason has let him anywhere near the shelves, even after showing him the territory he controls (following him around hissing at him not to disturb any of it, really, but it was kind of cute; _Jason_ is cute), and he's not about to let a little bit of pain stop him from seeing what kinds of things Jason likes. His shoulder has had a couple days to heal now anyway, so it's not like he's in danger of making it bleed just by resting weight on it.

He has to resist the urge to wiggle with utter joy as he stares at the collection. Another mer who likes human things, how _awesome_ is that? How cool that his tail-match likes humans too, and collects things from them. Jason is big, and his scales are a gorgeous deep red, and there are only a few scars across his chest and arms, which means that he's a good, strong, talented fighter. Out of practice, but this is a nice sea and he wouldn't want to leave it either if it was his place. (And he never would have known there was a mer here if he hadn't followed that ship into the channel; anyone else would have swam right by.)

"What about the humans here?" he asks, as he sticks his face close to a wooden, fine-toothed comb. There's a carving of a mermaid on the handle, inaccurate tail length but it's finely done, and she's stretched out along the length of it with both arms raised. "I mean, they're not hunting you and in a place this small they've _gotta_ know you're here."

"They're fine," Jason says, tone a little tight, and he realizes he may have made a mistake.

He pushes back up, looking over and quickly correcting, "Not that your sea is small! It's— It's _contained_ though, so I mean they have to— Not that you can't hide, but—” He sputters out as Jason's shoulders draw in a bit, blue gaze flicking away towards the pool of the cave.

"I know it's small." Jason's tail flicks up again, lifting a bit of water out of the pool the tip is resting in to spray across the rest of it. Then Jason shoots him a sharp, defensive glare, and his worry that he might have hurt his tail-match eases. " _I_ like it." A scoff, as Jason looks away again. "No one bothers me and no one else wants it."

He heads over, his tail scraping against the floor as he coils it and pushes forward, until he's sitting close enough that he can lean over and nudge Jason's shoulder with his nose, smiling when Jason's gaze comes back to him. "I like it too," he offers, and his heart soars when Jason stalls, eyes blinking wide and surprised. "It must be so cool to have all these humans around to watch, and all their stuff to look through. And it's nice here; quiet, calm, but it has everything you need." He shifts the weight of his torso back and forth, letting the end of his tail slip off the edge of the ledge and dip into the water, next to Jason's. "It's a nice cave too, and your collection is really neat."

Jason's gaze ducks, tail twitching and his body shying away a little bit. He smiles wider at the embarrassment.

"I like the comb especially."

At that, Jason's gaze snaps back up, and he startles a little bit until Jason murmurs, "You know what it's called?"

He maybe puffs up a little bit, proud, his fins fluttering. "Yes! Combs; they're for hair. The human maids, women, they use them to keep their hair smooth." Jason is staring at him. "I collect things too," he explains, "and I knew a human for a while; she taught me a lot of things about them. Names for things, and uses." He remembers something, something he's pretty sure Jason hasn't noticed yet, and exclaims, "Look!"

Jason flinches back just a touch at the word, as he reaches up and scrapes the hair away from his left ear, but then leans closer, eyes wide and marveling. "I've seen those before," Jason murmurs, staring at the golden hoop strung through the top of his ear. "Sailors, mostly. The maids, they have… longer ones. Different ones. Both sides." Jason looks at him then, still leaned close. "Do _you_ have both sides?"

"Just one," he answers, wanting to wiggle in excitement — Jason _likes_ it — but forcing himself to hold still so Jason can keep looking at the hoop. "It's called an earring; my human friend gave it to me. You pierce the skin and make a little hole, and then you feed the metal through and close it again. The skin heals around the metal, and you get to keep it. Isn't it awesome?"

Jason shifts back, head ducking a little bit, shoulder shifting as his braced hand takes the weight. "Yeah," comes the soft answer. "Yeah it is." Jason's gaze flickers up, away, and then there's a quiet, "I have… more. Up on the island's top. Things that can't get wet."

He barely manages to contain himself long enough to ask, "Can I see?" without it being nearly shouted. His excitement is still more than obvious, but that's alright because Jason likes humans _too_. Jason likes human _things_.

A small, slightly hesitant nod, followed by, "You don't touch _anything_. The stuff up there is delicate and it's important.” The flash of teeth in a snarl. "I'll slice you into _pieces_ if you hurt it, got that?"

"I'll be careful," he promises, and Jason stares at him for a long few moments before giving another nod.

"Follow me."

He does, letting himself slide into the water after Jason, and admiring the confident twist of that red-black tail as Jason dives down deeper into the water and out of the cave. He sort of misses the sight of Jason's back, but the kelp covering it is keeping the slices he left there clean and helping them heal, and he doesn't really want to cause Jason any pain. Not unless it was a proving fight, anyway, but Jason hasn't made that kind of an offer and he doesn't want to start one without it being clear that that's all it is. Jason _matches_ him, and Jason might not believe in that but he does. He always loved that idea.

Finding the one you're destined to be with, the one that matches the base color and pattern of your tail? It's sweet, and his own parents were a tail-matched couple. Happy, at least as long as he was with them. He's always wanted to find his own tail-match, and it looks like Jason might be it. Grumpy, defensive, easily-embarrassed Jason who just happens to be the only mer he’s ever met who didn’t immediately think his earring was a stupid risk and who actually likes human things. He's so _lucky_. Now all he has to do is prove to Jason that he's good enough to be a competent mate, and everything should work (not that he’s courted one of his own kind before but it seems simple enough). Everything Jason's done so far has just made him more sure that this is possible. Well, just as soon as he can get Jason to actually see him the same way.

Jason leads him up and around the island, to where there's a shallow cove ringed at the outside by rocks, making a large pool out of the water within. Jason slides in between two points with the ease of apparent practice, he follows with a bit more scraping, and then he follows Jason across the cove to where there's a stone human structure only a couple tail-lengths from the sand of the shore. Jason hesitates just a bit at the edge, glancing back at him, before climbing out into the sand and wriggling his way up to the stone structure.

He wants to follow, but holds himself back to wait for an invitation because of that look, propping himself up at the edge of the water so his tail is free to still coil within it, but everything above his waist is raised out. He can't quite stop his fins from flicking though, excitement making him smile as he waits for Jason's word. There's a scrape of stone as Jason pushes the equally stone door of the structure open wide, and then crawls up into it.

"Are you coming?" is the somewhat-irritated call from within, and he all but leaps forward at the invitation.

When he gets up there and has managed to pull himself up onto the stone slab that serves as a base, he pokes his head inside and looks around. His breath catches, and he almost forgets to breathe with his mouth instead of his gills for a moment as he stares. The structure isn't all that high, not compared to some of the human buildings he's seen before, but it's wide, held up by pillars. All the walls are covered in shelves, most of them covered in random things of a more delicate nature than the simpler bowls and shiny things below, but a few… A few, lower down, are stacked with books, and those make his brow furrow for a second. What would be the point of having those?

He's so captivated by the shelves that it takes him a moment to realize that there's a pool in the center of the room, and it's there that Jason's gone to. His tail is coiled in the water, torso and head laid flat against the stone of the floor, watching him.

"What is this place?" he asks, as he slithers closer, pulling himself along with arms and pushing with tail to approach the pool.

Jason pulls back as he approaches, straightening up and backing away to give him room to slide into the pool as well. "It's a… a…” Jason's eyes squeeze shut for a second, tail flicking irritably beneath the water, before he says, " _Temple_. That's the word. The humans here… made it for me."

"Really?" he asks, moving a little closer.

Jason shifts, his back pressing to the edge of the pool. "Yeah. I— I've been here awhile and they... see me as some kind of protector, I think. I've pulled some sailors to shore, and a few of the little humans, and I like the sea clean so I pull their stuff out of the water if I see it." Jason looks up, around the building. "So they built this place. They leave things for me here, sometimes, or sometimes they leave drawings; things they've lost. I match them, if I can. It's kind of fun."

Jason looks back at him them, something defensive in his gaze right alongside something studying. Like this is a test.

He smiles, looking up at all the stone, and the slits high in the walls letting in the light, and all the _things_. "This is really awesome," he says, completely honestly. "I've never met another mer that liked human things, or wanted anything to do with them apart from, you know, eating them. I don't know why you would though; they're so much more interesting when they're alive."

"You… really wouldn't eat a human?"

He shakes his head as he looks down, his smile softening around the edges. "Actually, I've got a human daughter. Lian. I uh..." He ducks his head, shifting in his own embarrassment. "I didn't realize that it was so easy with humans? It was only once. No wonder there are so many of them, right?"

"A human daughter?" Jason sounds interested, and he tries not to be too outwardly excited when his tail-match shifts a bit closer, away from the pool's edge. "How old?"

He shrugs, and then offers, "A third of their years, about. Twenty-three. I stayed close to her and her mother while she was growing, but the ocean called to her. She sails now, all over the place. If I scent her in the water usually I'll see if I can track her, but I haven't seen her in years. Her mother either."

"It sounds like she grew up well," Jason praises, and when he looks over those blue eyes are watching him, warmer than he's seen them so far.

He smiles a little bit wider, leans over a bit without actually moving closer, and asks, "Would you show me your favorite thing in here?"

Jason's doesn't answer, verbally, but he does dip his head a little bit, gaze flickering down, before he climbs out of the pool. He watches, making his way over to cross his arms over the edge of the stone. Jason's moved over to some of the lower shelves, and as he watches, human-turned fingers carefully grab a piece of cloth hanging off the shelves with the books on them, scrubbing it over hands and lower arms both. He tilts his head. Jason tucks the cloth back, then reaches for one of the actual books and pulls it out. It's a thick thing, the cover a hands width by itself, and Jason holds it carefully away from his chest as he comes back towards the pool.

Jason doesn't come back into the pool, but his tail curls around and dips into it as he sits near the edge, holding the book tightly and watching him.

"You can't touch it," is the warning. "Your hands are wet; you'll damage it."

He tucks his hands underneath the opposite elbows. Smiles. "Promise."

Another moment of hesitation, and then Jason huffs a breath and opens the book, cradling its back in one hand and tracing down its pages with the other. "It's a story about a king," Jason murmurs, gaze darting along the open book. "His kingdom is failing, so he makes this deal with this magical beast to save it, but the beast tricked him and the magic doesn't work like it should, so they have to go track it down and fix things. There’s this romance in the background, and it—” Jason must notice how he's staring, because suddenly there's a snapped, "What?"

"You can read human text?" he asks quietly, knowing that his eyes are wide and he's holding still in some kind of awe.

Jason shifts a bit, gaze flickering away for a moment before returning. "Yes," is the equally quiet answer. "There are lots of human languages, but… this one, yes." Jason pulls the book a tiny bit closer. "You can't?"

He shakes his head, and then lowers it to rest on top of his arms, sideways so he can still look up at Jason. "Read to me?" he pleads, with a smile and a wiggle of his tail.

The way Jason looks at him makes him think that maybe no one’s ever asked something like that before, maybe never shown any interest in his things before. “You want me to read to you?” is the question that follows that look, just about as disbelieving.

He nods.

Jason still doesn’t look entirely sure, but he flips to the front of the book anyway. “Well, alright.”

He settles in, letting his tail curl beneath the water as he relaxes, his eyes closing as Jason begins to speak.

* * *

It takes Jason an embarrassingly long time to realize that Roy is probably courting him.

He's sitting curled up in a divot in the sand, where he likes to sit with his books when he feels comfortable enough to take them out of the temple itself. Just a single tail-length from the water of the cove; close enough that he could put the book down and dive in if he needs to, if any of the humans approach. It's warm, comfortable, and most importantly whatever book he's reading is safe (and so is he).

And then Roy, who left when he curled up (as he tends to; off to collect things in the sea), is suddenly wiggling his way between the rocks at the outside of the cove, flopping in with a small splash. He looks up, just in time to watch Roy surface again, red hair clinging to his neck and shoulders as he turns back to the rocks, reaches past it to grab something else. He blinks, staring, and then he sucks in a sharp breath and nearly drops his book when Roy pulls a _shark_ through the narrow gap in the rocks.

A big, dark grey _shark_ nearly as long as Roy's entire tail, and easily twice the weight. Claw-marks slicing through its underbelly, no longer bleeding but clearly fatal, and as Roy drags the shark closer to him by its tail he can see that Roy is grinning, wide and excited, but also has a scraped-raw left arm and bruises forming down his right side.

It hits him, suddenly, that this is _not_ the sort of thing that his kind usually hunt. Sharks this big are one of the few things that have a chance of fighting back, and are too big for a single mer to eat with any real speed. So… So maybe this is more. Maybe this is Roy… proving himself. Courting.

Sure, he's shown Roy around his territory (mostly unwillingly), and showed him his treasures (mostly willingly), and Roy is almost entirely healed but hasn't left quite yet, but it didn't really occur to him that Roy was being anything but cheerful. Roy brought him fish the very first time he went hunting, after they bound each other's wounds. He thought it was just something about him being hurt worse than Roy, and the bandages being more likely to come off with quick movement, but… maybe it wasn't. Maybe Roy was courting him right from the start and he didn't even notice.

He blinks, stares, as Roy drags the shark up and rolls it up onto the sand near his tail.

"You…” Roy is still grinning, partially up on the sand now but not close enough to him to be getting him wet. "Where did you _get_ that?" is the only thing he can ask, as it occurs to him that there _are_ no sharks that big in his sea. There are some smaller ones, no threat to anyone, but one of this size he would have known about.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Roy says, shifting closer and sprawling out, arms stretching up above his head as he rolls onto his back; half in the water, half out.

"That's why I _asked_ ," he stresses, shutting his book and leaning back to set it higher up on the sand. "There aren't any sharks that big in my sea; where'd you find it?"

Roy's tail is curling side to side beneath the water, clearly excited. "Out into the ocean. Tracked it, hunted it. I thought maybe you'd never had one; share it with me?"

He swallows, and that's… That's an invitation he can't mistake. "Are you courting me?" he blurts out, and then immediately wishes he hadn't, curling his tail tighter in and his shoulders down. What if Roy is just being weird? What if it's a no? What if—?

"Yes." The blunt answer comes through a grin, before Roy wriggles a little closer, holds his gaze. "Do you like the shark?"

"You're courting me," he repeats, faintly. "I— _Why?_ I'm just… I'm strange; everyone's always said that."

And Roy moves even closer, dragging higher up onto the sand until he's nearly close enough to reach out and touch his tail. "I like you," Roy murmurs, lying back down, head tilting backwards to look at him upside down. One hand rises, craning backwards until the fingers brush the scales of his tail. "I like how big you are, and strong. You're tough and you're grumpy and you're gorgeous." Roy grins, fingers stroking over his tail as he stares. "And you like _humans_. You collect their things and you can talk about them and actually understand when _I_ talk about them." Those fingers pause, resting on his tail, gaze holding his. "And your eyes go soft when you read, even if it's not out loud."

He just stares, unable to find words. He's not… No one's ever been interested in anything more than his size before. No one's ever _liked_ the fact that he collects human things; he's in this sea for more reasons than just because he likes how calm it is.

Roy's hand falls to the side, into the sand. He's still smiling when he asks, again, "Do you like the shark?"

His gaze flicks to the side automatically, to the shark waiting there. It is… pretty big, and as he looks at it he realizes that there is a little part of him that's impressed. It wouldn't have been an easy fight, and it's a long way to drag something that heavy. It's quite a task; a smaller mer, or one with less skill, probably wouldn't have gone after a shark this big, and even the ones who would have might not have actually won. Not without a nasty bite, anyway, and Roy looks mostly fine. A little bit of bleeding from the arm, and— And Roy is still slightly injured. His shoulder and side haven't entirely healed yet, which makes this… _impressive_.

"Yes," he answers, as he reaches out and runs his fingers over the grey of its skin, in the smooth direction. "How was the hunt?" he finds himself asking, almost on instinct.

Roy's tail, the very end of it still in the water, curls up and then slaps down in the next moment. "Fun. Challenging. I hadn't hunted a shark this size before; we wrestled, he was strong but I got my claws in him before he could bite me. Held him till he stopped thrashing."

He draws in a shallow breath, interested in a way he's maybe never been with anything other than his human stories. He doesn't know where it comes from, doesn't know why he does it, but he finds his tail uncurling as he leans forward, a hand bracing in the sand beside Roy's head. Roy has gone still as he looms over him, breathing shallow, holding his gaze with clear focus. He leans down, and instinct that he does recognize calls for him to graze his real teeth across the throat offered there, but he drags in a breath and eases it to something a little less permanent.

His lips brush over Roy's, shallow like the examples he's read in the books, and he didn't fully understand the appeal of it when reading (it sounded like a less interesting version of sharing breath) but the soft touch makes his lips feel alive, makes him _aware_ of them in a way he never is. He stays there for a moment, leaning over Roy, before he pulls back. Only for a hand to graze the wrist of his braced hand, and for Roy to turn partially over, smiling so wide it makes his jaw ache to look at it.

"Can I have another?" is the eager question.

He pauses, considering. A tiny smile curls one corner of his own mouth when he answers, "Next time you do something I like. I…” He has to stop, to squeeze his eyes shut and try and remember the words his dam once taught him. He can't remember the exact phrasing, so he grunts a bit of frustration and then makes do with, "I… give you the chance to prove yourself in courtship."

Roy laughs, bright and happy. "I don't remember the words either. I'll impress you, though. Promise." He shifts a little bit, gaze ducking away as he fights a smile, fights just giving in and offering another kiss. "How about you keep reading?" Roy murmurs, hand lifting to stroke his scales again. He shudders a little bit at the feeling. "I'll get the shark ready, and come get you when it's time to eat. Sound good?"

"Yes," is all he can manage for a moment. Then he reaches forward, impulsively, and slides his fingers over Roy's cheek, combing the clinging strands of his hair back behind his ear. His fingers brush the gold of the hoop on their way back. "I've never had shark before," he admits. "Looking forward to it."

Roy's teeth chase his fingers, but only to nibble at the ends of them, grazing dull human teeth over his skin for a moment before pulling back. "I'll save you the teeth," Roy promises; grins a little wider. "And the skin."

He leans in again; _that_ deserves another kiss.

[ ](http://s67.photobucket.com/user/gloire968/media/riptide_zpsgeytaajm.jpg.html)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Otherwise known as, 'And then Skalidra tried to figure out the mechanics of underwater sex'. Enjoy!

Jason lets him sleep nearby that night, after they've shared the shark and Jason has curled up on the ledge of his cave, as usual. He's about to dive down into the water and press himself there, to sleep as well, when Jason beckons to him. He follows the prompting to climb up on the ledge, and Jason shifts and makes room for him along the wall, at his back. He can barely keep from exclaiming his excitement, as Jason lets him lie down there, his head coming to rest against Jason's back. He holds himself otherwise apart, at least until Jason shifts backward, tail brushing his and back pressing more firmly against his chest.

He doesn't sleep for a long time, not with Jason's skin warm against his; his fingers finally allowed to touch skin that he's been staring at since he got here. He breathes in Jason's scent, his nose between shoulder blades, resisting the urge to twist their tails together. He hasn't been given that permission yet, and it's not one that he's going to take. He's more than satisfied with having Jason against him, and being allowed to breathe in his tail-match's scent with every slow inhalation.

Eventually he drifts off, and when he does wake it's to Jason shifting against him, their tails having curled together sometime in the night. He lingers in that as long as possible before Jason pulls away.

Courting Jason, now that Jason _knows_ that's what he's doing, is a special kind of delight. Jason is shy, quiet, and eternally surprised by his gifts, even though now it's an expected thing. He hunts for Jason, brings him trinkets and things he finds at the bottom of the sea (or unattended on shores or docks), and enjoys the time he can spend just being around him. Sometimes, if he asks nicely, Jason will read aloud to him; stories and descriptions from his collection, and he loves that more than almost anything else. Jason's voice is deep and soft, and he loves listening to it.

The best of the teeth from the shark he makes into a decoration; very carefully making holes in them with a bit of work, and then stringing a thin human-made piece of rope through them. When he presents it, Jason lets him wind it around his wrist and tie it in place. It loops around several times. Jason seems to like it, because he keeps wearing it.

The skin he saves, carefully drying it until he has it ready. Jason doesn't ask for anything specific, so he uses his own imagination to come up with a use for it.

He waits until Jason is curled up in the sands reading again (not that he has to wait long, since that's one of Jason's main sources of enjoyment) before he pulls the skin out of the temple where he stored it. He heads over to Jason, who's so used to his approach he doesn't even look up, and comes over to carefully drape the skin around Jason's shoulders.

Then Jason looks up, blinking as he takes in the shark skin draped around his shoulders and arms, the width covering every bit of his skin from the neck downwards. He wiggles his way around to Jason's front, flopping down into the sand with his head near the top of Jason's tail and his own tail curled around Jason's back. Jason's book dips, other hand rising to stroke across the shark skin.

"I was wondering what you did with this," is Jason's remark, as his fingers graze low enough down to pass over the more irregular space where the skin came off the head. "It looks nice."

He smiles, lifts his head high enough that he can rub his nose along Jason's waist, just above where the skin fades to scales. Jason shivers, just a little bit. "You lose track of time when you read," he comments, letting his hand come forward to trace along Jason's scales. "You burn sometimes, so, I figured you can wear this when you read, and it'll keep you safe." Jason gives the tiniest of smiles, a curl of one corner of his lip, and Roy wiggles and adds, "Or you can pull it down into the cave and use it as a cover, if you want."

Jason smiles just a little wider, and then carefully shuts the book and reaches back to set it high up on the sand, out of range of anything. The skin slides off his shoulders next, set up equally high and actually on top of the book. Then Jason turns back to him, a hand lowering to graze fingers across his jaw and tilt his head up a little more. He goes with it eagerly, pressing his hands to the sands to lift up as the hand wants him to, high enough that Jason can give him another of those wonderful, soft kisses. He hums pleasure as Jason breaks the kiss, shifting to the side to nuzzle against his cheek. His tail wiggles as Jason pulls back enough to look him in the eye.

"Wrestle me?" is the quiet question.

The words are barely out of Jason's mouth before he answers, " _Yes_."

Jason blinks, apparently a little surprised by the speed of his response, but then gives a snort and pushes him back a bit, mouth curling in a small grin. "No claws; in the cove. Sound good?"

"Sounds excellent," he agrees, as he unwinds his tail from around Jason's back, takes a last look to admire Jason's grin, and then heads down across the sand and back into the water. By the sounds, he knows Jason is following him, but he waits until he's fully submerged and has swum a bit away before turning to watch. He's just in time to watch Jason slide down into the water, powerful tail twisting into little curls as he moves to water deep enough that he's not scraping against the bottom.

He can feel his heart beating faster, his gills flaring as he takes in a deep breath to try and rein in the excitement. Jason's never asked him to _wrestle_ before; Jason's never asked him to fight at all. He thinks that most mers see it as one of the first tests, but Jason hasn't really set him any tests. He's been left to prove himself based on his own imagination and instinct, and it's been really fun but maybe he has been wanting to give something that he was actually _asked_ for. He enjoys the challenge, but being told what Jason wants would be simpler. Like this; fights are simple.

And he so _wants_ to pin Jason down and prove that he's capable.

Jason is watching him now, his gaze focused and the grin fallen, almost like he's really defensive except for the lack of teeth being flashed towards him. He moves and Jason moves with him, and they circle each other in the water, waiting for a moment of inattention or anything else that might give advantage. He lets his tail flick a bit harder in its wind, propel him a bit faster, and Jason is late to reciprocate so he takes a hard turn and darts forward. The water splashes as he moves, as the tip of his fin breaches the water, but he ignores it in favor of crashing into Jason, grabbing for his arms.

He almost gets it, but Jason's hands close on his waist instead and Jason is turning with the impact to keep his momentum and _slam_ him into the sand on the other side. His breath comes out of his mouth in a hard exhale, sand stirring into the water as Jason presses his shoulders down, tail beating hard against his to drive it down as well. He drags a breath in and surges up, twisting his tail out from under Jason's and shoving hard at his chest. He's stronger, and he has the leverage of the sand to brace against, so Jason is pushed back enough for him to get his back off the sand.

He curls down, shoving his shoulders and head into Jason's upper chest and grabbing at his waist. Jason hisses, elbow coming down against his back as the other hand presses at his chest. The blow hurts, but not enough to stop him from driving Jason backwards and up through the water. He manages to build up enough speed and power to breach the water, shoving Jason up into the air. He's just a fraction of a second behind, enough to hear Jason's gasp before his momentum topples them back underwater. This time, with him on top.

Jason grabs at his arms, teeth baring in a flash of white, and he flashes his own — resists letting them grow to their natural points — and quickly coils his tail around Jason's. Immediately Jason fights him, shoving at him, hissing, but he's stronger even if he's slightly smaller. He wraps one arm around Jason's waist, keeping him close (since he doesn't have to fear teeth or claws in this particular fight) with hard pressure, and looping the other underneath Jason's arm to grab hold of the short hair at the back of his skull. Jason's eyes widen as his head snaps back, throat arched and bared to him, hands clenching down on his biceps.

He _wants_ to bite down into that skin, but he forces the urge down. He _does_ press forward against the shove of hands against his arms, his nose pressing against Jason's throat, mouth passing across the hollow there and barely resisting the desire to at least graze his teeth across it. He can hear Jason hiss, feel how he thrashes against the hold, head wrenching to the side to try and get away from him.

Their weight takes them down, and he feels the sand against his arm and tail before Jason settles against it. He gets about two seconds of enjoying having Jason pinned before a hand _slams_ into his ribs with enough force to bow him sideways and make his grips reflexively loosen. That's all it takes for Jason to jerk free of him, head pulling loose first before an opposite-handed blow, this one to the side of his head, stuns him long enough to let Jason wiggle free of the curl of his tail as well.

He grabs for Jason's tail as it slips free, gets one hand on it before it gets smacked away by the flip of that deep-red fin. Jason spins out around the cove, and he gives chase. Jason's a little faster than he is, but he cuts across diagonally to make up the distance so he can barrel into Jason's side, beating his tail _hard_ to get up the force to drive Jason back into the shallow of the shore. Jason rakes hands over his shoulder and back, nails dragging where claws would have sliced, before he's driven into the sand. It's shallow enough that when he shoves Jason down his own back breaches the water.

Jason hisses up at him, and it's clear he's inexperienced at this but he's _learning_.

Hands shove _hard_ at his stomach, curving him upwards where a shove to his chest wouldn't have. A smack of Jason's fin to the side of his tail destabilizes him, and Jason squirms away from him and upwards. Higher onto the sand, which means that when he goes after he has to wiggle his way up onto the sands as well, body suddenly heavy again now that he's further out of the water. He pins Jason's tail down with the weight of his own, scales scraping against each other as he climbs up, hair hanging wet around his head. Jason hits his side again — even harder, now that the water isn't there to slow the force — but he takes it in exchange for grabbing Jason's wrists one at a time and shoving them into the sand on either side of Jason's head.

He tightens his grip, bears his weight down onto those wrists. Jason jerks against him, eyes narrowed and flat teeth bared, wrists twisting against his grip and trying to escape. On land, Jason is as unwieldy as he is, and the water only comes up to just under their waists (even there it's shallow enough to be all but useless). Jason weighs more, but he's on top, and he's _stronger_. Escaping him on land would be even harder than in the water.

Jason's tail beats beneath his. Shoulders curl up off the sand and he leans slightly back to be out of range of those teeth. Just in case.

Jason struggles until they're both breathing hard and his heart is pounding, excitement hot in his veins, nearly enough to make him tremble as he holds himself to restraint. Until finally, _finally_ , Jason goes still against the sand. He keeps his grip as Jason pants, head twisted to one side and mouth partially open, eyes lidded but still slightly open. Watches for any sign of resistance, any sign that this is just Jason playing at being dead, waiting for his guard to drop.

Then Jason's gaze lifts to him. There's a deeper breath, and then Jason eases into the sand, hands uncurling and shoulders going lax against the dirt. Jason's chin tilts up, head still twisted to the side, and… and…

He leans down, ducking his head and letting his mouth come to press against Jason's bared throat, his breath coming a little bit shaky. "Do you…?" is all he can manage.

Jason shivers, pulse jumping beneath his lips. "I accept you," Jason murmurs, voice low and deep, breathless. " _Yes_."

It's his turn to shudder, and he's only barely in control of the way that his teeth grow to their natural state, mouth hovering over Jason's throat. He lets go of Jason's right wrist, sliding his hand in underneath Jason's skull and cradling it, supporting it. His breath comes sharp, and slowly, _carefully_ , he fits his teeth to Jason's neck. Jason eases a little more as he feels his teeth split skin; it's instinct and desire and an urge written as deeply in his bones as the knowledge of how to swim that lets him slide his teeth just far enough into Jason's neck that he can _feel_ it.

Jason gasps, and he can taste the blood on his tongue, feel Jason's pulse through his teeth. He shivers, and then Jason gives a soft moan and he withdraws his teeth, suddenly trembling, suddenly overwhelmed. Jason's hand grabs at his shoulder, and their gazes meet for a second, green to blue. He can feel the intent in Jason's gaze, the question, feel the half-formed claim sitting there like a word on the tip of his tongue.

Wordlessly, he tilts his head to the side and closes his eyes.

He can feel it as Jason curls up, hand moving from his shoulder to the back of his neck and pulling him down. Sharp teeth sink into the side of his throat, breaking skin and drawing blood almost immediately. Deeper than his own bite, blunter, and Jason pulls back faster as well with a gasp that echoes the one he gives.

His fingers contract around the wrist he's still holding, curl into Jason's hair. Jason's clench down on his neck, and somehow when he opens his eyes Jason's forehead is pressed to his, blue eyes his entire world. They breathe in time, he smiles, and he can _sense_ the joy in his veins. Can sense that it's not all his. That makes him smile harder.

Jason's thumb rubs against the side of his neck, and Jason leans up into him, gives him one of those soft, grazing kisses that's perfectly human and _perfect_. He surges into it though, unable to help himself, and Jason hits the sand with a surprised huff of breath and more force than he intended. Jason seems more than happy to reciprocate the deeper kiss, and he realizes why when he realizes that the low curl of arousal joining the joy in his veins is mostly not _his_.

He breaks the kiss, flicking his eyes open to catch the way Jason’s mouth stays parted for a moment, eyes closed and a very faint flush coloring the tops of his cheeks. Whether it’s the shared desire in his blood or the sight of Jason he doesn’t know, but just like that he also _wants_. Jason’s hand slides down and grabs his shoulder, back arching underneath him as Jason gives a breathless moan, eyes flying wide. He stares at the line of Jason's throat, at the ring of still-bleeding marks from his teeth. He wants— He wants _Jason_.

“I can _feel_ you,” is the almost awed comment, breathed in a voice just above a whisper. "Feel it in my skin, feel that you— you—” Jason twists beneath him, neck arching up and he can feel the flush of heat under his own skin as Jason digs blunt nails into his shoulder and moans, " _Yes_. Do it. _Do it_."

He's helpless to do anything but obey the pull of desire in his chest. He lets go of Jason just long enough that he can get a better grip on his arms, so he can pull him back down into the water. Jason comes willingly, eagerly, hands sliding along his sides and the first few lines of his scales as they tumble back into the water together. The relief from the noise and light of the air is wonderful, letting him focus solely on the touch and feeling of his tail-match's presence, and having his weight again supported lets him pull Jason close without worrying about resting too heavily on top of him.

He wraps his left arm around Jason's waist, and slides the other down between them. Jason hisses, arching forward, when his fingers find the slick, normally hidden slit between the protection of those red and black scales. He shivers, slides two inside the surprising heat there (slicker than Jade ever was; different consistency) and nearly whines at the feeling. It's easy, welcoming, and Jason's tail is curling around his to hold him close in the same way that his arm is holding Jason to him, fingers contracting against his back as Jason presses against him.

"You're so gorgeous," he breathes, watching how Jason's eyes are flickering, the way his chest is rising in small gasps. "Can I take you, babe? Will you let me?"

Jason shudders, and then opens eyes to meet his gaze and hiss, "I'm going to kill you if you _don't_. Come on, Roy, do this or I swear to the depths I'll do _you_."

Which is a long way away from a bad thing, at least in his mind, but Jason _wants_ this and that’s incentive enough to get on with it. He slides his fingers free, utterly unable to resist raising them up through the water to get them in his own mouth and suck away the lingering traces of Jason’s slick. He gives a groan at the taste, letting his eyes close, but opens them again a moment later when he hears Jason give a choked moan as well.

Jason is staring at him, eyes wide, that faint flush back at the tops of his cheeks. He honestly doesn’t know how much of the desire in his blood is his and how much is Jason’s, and he thinks that might be one of the best things in the world. He grins, pulling his fingers away but only so that he can lean in and kiss Jason instead, sliding his tongue between currently human teeth to let Jason taste himself. It earns him a hard shudder and a swell of the fire in his— _their_ veins.

It feels beyond natural to relax, to let his own scales come apart and then let himself extend. He brushes up against scale, and he slides the hand on Jason’s back down to help angle them both right until—

Jason cries out when he slides inside, partly muffled by the join of their mouths. He breaks the kiss, pressing their foreheads together so he can open his eyes and see the expression on Jason’s face. Eyes closed, mouth still open, looking halfway between pain and pleasure except that he can feel that there is _no_ pain to this. Not on either side. For him it’s hot, sliding pressure, and he can’t _wait_ to do this the opposite direction and know exactly what it feels like on the other side, but the sensation echo from Jason makes him sure that it’s _good_. That, and the way that Jason’s clinging to his back, gills flaring wide as he gasps, chest rising in sharp, deep breaths.

He lowers his head so he can nuzzle against Jason's neck, so he can lap at the faintly-bleeding marks of his teeth as he wraps both arms around Jason's chest to hold him. Jason's hands rise in turn, sliding into his hair and gripping handfuls, _keeping_ him close. Jason's tail curls tighter around his, squeezes it in time with inner muscles that squeeze more intimate parts, and he's helpless to do anything but shake and press his face into Jason's skin.

Jason is the one to undulate, body rolling in slow waves that bring them together, shallowly rocking him in and out. (So totally different from how Jade had _moved_ , vigorous and nearly violent in the speed and depth of it; nothing like he expected or what his instincts told him was right.)

Jason hisses almost directly into his ear, fingers drawing tight enough in his hair that it hurts, the roll of his body becoming slightly more urgent and demanding. He refuses to fight what Jason wants, but he lets his grip tighten, lets himself hiss in response as he's taken. It doesn't feel like he's the one with the power here, feels more like he's being taken even though physically it's the other way around, and he's entirely alright with that. _Welcomes_ it. Jason can take him as much as he likes, in any way he wants.

He gives into instinct, letting himself move in time with Jason, rolling in the same pattern so that they grind together. Jason's muscles contract rhythmically around him, _demanding_ his release and refusing to allow him to draw any real distance out. It's perfect, it feels utterly right in ways that his time with Jade didn't. Weightless in the water, kept close, his nose pressed to his mate's throat and strong hands in his hair. It's everything he's wanted. Everything he _could_ want.

The cry that pierces the water is sharp, and he echoes it as Jason tightens all around him; hands and tail and inner depths all at once. The scrape of their scales is a muted feeling compared to everything else; to Jason's skin beneath his fingers, against his chest, _holding_ him. It all builds within his veins; heat and desire and _need_ all building on one another until they're both trembling, breathing hard and in tandem, his nails digging into Jason's back even as his scalp _burns_ from the pressure of Jason's fingers in his hair.

He pushes forward out of sync but somehow Jason meets it anyway, shoving as deep in as he can get as Jason welcomes him, hot and tight and all _his_. Every bit of Jason, _his_. Every bit of him, _Jason's_.

He all but whines into Jason's neck, and one of Jason's hands lets go of his hair and grabs at his back instead, pressing hard enough to keep him held close even if he wanted to pull back. But he doesn't, not with the contractions dragging him steadily higher, with Jason's desire and his own wound together in his veins, with everything exactly as his instinct wants it. His _mate_. Claimed, held, _taken_. How could he ever even think to pull away from this?

He gives first, his nails drawing blood from Jason's back even though they're blunted as he's dragged over the edge as inevitably as the tide. He arches and shouts his release, and Jason is only a fraction of a second behind him, fingers scratching along his back in turn as he gets impossibly tighter; taking everything he has to give and then some. He can only let it pull him along, helpless in the flow of it as he shakes, and then realizes that Jason is shaking as well. It's faint, a tremble more than real _shaking_ , but they're pressed so close together he can feel every fraction of it.

Eventually Jason eases, relaxing around him. He makes no move to pull away with his new freedom, only lets himself slowly retract now that he's softened, nuzzling gently at Jason's throat and humming soft, appreciative noises into it. Jason's hand is still in his hair, and after a minute it begins to card through it, stroking across his scalp in small, repetitive motions. He's not sure how long they drift together, safe and sated, but he's happy to simply enjoy the aftermath.

Eventually Jason shifts, slowly pulling just far enough away that their gazes can meet. Jason's eyes are soft, content, and he can't help but smile and lean in for a short, shallow kiss. Jason's tail squeezes his, and he strokes his hands down Jason's back until he can lightly grip both sides of his waist instead. Jason's hands come to cup his face, thumbs sliding over his cheeks as they part again. He feels almost _bursting_ with joy, with content happiness.

"Look," he murmurs, nodding slightly downwards. "We match."

There's a flicker of confusion, and then Jason's gaze flicks down, lingers on the bite mark on the side of his throat and then the twisted together curl of their tails. A snort, and he can feel the amusement even before Jason shakes his head and mutters, "You _dork_."

"Your dork," he corrects, with a small grin and a squeeze of Jason's waist.

Jason smiles. "My dork."


End file.
